This is one of the stories that I spoke about on Tumblr recently. You know, crack, OOC, kinky, and totally self-indulgent. But several of you wanted me to finish it and post it, so I have. You have been warned.

Dedicated to Queen Lovett.

Set during the War. While on operations, Sir Anthony is taken prisoner, and meets the last person he thought he would see behind enemy lines.

.

It was at that moment, that terrible moment of confusion and slaughter, that Anthony knew that the raid had gone horribly wrong. Everything had been progressing to plan until then. The raiding party had been in two halves, Anthony commanding the group that was going to kidnap the German officers from their dugout for interrogation; Captain Greville in charge of the unit that would provide cover. But they were spotted before they even approached the German lines. Greville was shot and killed, his men, their sense of direction blurred by the gunsmoke and darkness, charged way off to one side, and his own men were now being engaged hand to hand by the enemy. Anthony made the decision to abort the sortie and blew his whistle. No doubt it saved some of the men's lives, but it alerted the Germans to who was in charge. He was tackled to the ground by two men, sure they had caught a prize when they were close enough to see his Major's uniform. Anthony fought back as hard as he could, straining to reach the pistol that had been knocked from his hand. Then Fritz delivered a shuddering blow to his head, and everything went dark.

.

When Anthony woke, he was sat uncomfortably on a chair with his hands tied behind the back. He couldn't move. A door opened behind him.

"Good afternoon, Herr Major. I see you have awoken." The voice was authoritative and spoke in German. Anthony couldn't see the man, who was standing directly behind him.

"Where am I?" asked Anthony, also in German.

"That is of no interest to you now. All I will say is that you have one chance, and one chance only, of getting back to your own army alive. Here is my offer, Herr Major: you will tell me what you know of the battle plans for the offensive next week, and I will ensure you return to your battalion…relatively unharmed. If you do not…" The threat was left hanging in the air.

"You cannot really believe I would tell you anything, even if I knew it." Anthony played for time.

"Oh, but I know that you will."

"I am afraid you will be sorely disappointed, Herr…?"

"Again, who I am is none of your concern. You would really prefer to lose your life than tell me where and when the attack will come?" The officer seemed remarkably casual in his interrogation methods, Anthony thought. There must be more to it than this.

"I would" Anthony answered simply.

The questioning continued in this manner for perhaps twenty minutes before the German gave up.

"You have exhausted my patience, Sir Anthony. There is little I can do now."

Anthony wasn't afraid to die, but he was emotional and his thoughts were full of Edith.

"Will you allow me to write one letter before you pass sentence?"

"I'm not going to pass any sentence on you, Herr Major. I am going to pass you over to another officer. She will now question you and then decide on your fate."

She? Anthony was horrified.

"You force women to serve in your army? That's despicable!"

"Oh, no one forced me to do anything, Anthony. I volunteered."

The voice, speaking in English, was the last one he expected to hear in that hell. He heard footsteps approaching him from the doorway. The figure walked past, placed some objects on the table, and then turned to face him. Edith.

She was not in uniform; instead she was wearing a long silk skirt and matching buttoned blouse. Her hair was dressed with curls piled around her head. She might have been just dropping by for tea.

Anthony just stared at her. It was all he could do. That Edith had volunteered to interrogate English officers…for the Germans…that she would betray her country like this…it was unthinkable.

"No, you are not dreaming, Anthony. I am truly here. Now you really must tell me what the Colonel wants to know, or I will be forced to…make things uncomfortable for you" she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Edith…" Anthony breathed, his heart breaking.

"Tell me what you know of the upcoming offensive."

"I will not put my comrades in danger" he answered.

"Tell me, or…" She drew a riding crop from the table behind her.

"I…I can't." His eyes grew wide, and he tensed as she played with the end of the crop under his chin.

With a swift movement she whipped his thigh. The pain was deadened by his uniform, but it still stung. And…there was more to it, he realised: much more to this torture than just pain.

"When will the offensive begin?" she asked again.

"I cannot tell you." His voice was beginning to break as he felt himself wanting her to crop him, despite himself. She was still everything he had loved before the war began: beautiful and charming, but like this she was also dangerous, and erotic, and marvellous.

Edith sensed the change in his emotions. She stood before him and slowly undid the single button at the top of her skirt. It fell to the floor with a rustle to reveal her stockings and suspenders. Now, Anthony knew why the Germans left interrogations to her. This was far, far worse than being injured or threatened with death. He wanted to please her. He wanted her to continue cropping him and teasing him and he wanted to tell her everything he knew about the attack planned for the next week. He wasn't sure how long he could hold out. She whipped him again and again, and he felt his desire for her coursing through his veins. This was so much more intimate and arousing than anything that had ever occurred between them before. Edith leant over his body, her face not three inches away from his. He could have reached up and kissed her.

"Now, tell me how you are feeling, Major Sir Anthony Strallan. I want to know." Her voice was slightly amused, and completely seductive.

"I want…"

"What do you want, Anthony? Tell me" she purred.

"I want you."

"You can have me, if you let me know a few things about the battle plans."

"You're lying!" he said with venom, recovering himself. "Just like you lied to me in 1914!"

"What?"

It all came back, hitting him with such force, everything that he'd held in check since that fateful afternoon in the gardens at Downton: all his shame, and sadness, and heartache.

"You led me on! You toyed with me, let me believe that you cared for me, even if it was just a little, that you would let me care for you, all the while ridiculing me to your sisters behind my back! You broke my heart! Well, you've got what you wanted: here is the ghastly old bore who almost proposed to you, and like the great booby he is, he's at your mercy. So just get on with it!"

Despite himself, he felt a tear escape and roll down his cheek as he turned his head from her.

"Is that why you left? Who told you…oh." There could only be one person who would invent a story so vile, and be so vindictive as to tell it to Anthony. "It was Mary, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

Edith continued looking at Anthony, but her expression had changed, as though she didn't consider this to be a game any more.

"Just so you know, Mary and I were locked in a battle of wills around that time, each trying to ruin the other in a petty squabble. It would seem now that Mary won simply because, while I only told the truth, she was willing to slander me."

"How can I be sure you're telling the truth now?" Anthony asked, still looking away from her.

"I suppose you can't. You can think of how we had been together before that day, how much I had been looking forward to your proposal…which I would have accepted without hesitation. It would have made me supremely happy."

Anthony glanced at her, and was surprised to see her eyes were wet as well.

"And yet here you are working for the enemy of our homeland. That is hardly a mark in favour of your faithfulness."

The German Colonel spoke to Edith. "What is it? What are you talking about that's getting him so emotional?"

"The Major and I…we were almost engaged to be married…before the War began" she replied, reining in her own feelings as she spoke.

"Ah. Good. Use it to your advantage."

"I intend to." Edith's feigned amusement with the situation had returned, a hint of a smile playing over her lips.

"They will kill you if you do not tell them what they want to know, Anthony" she murmured quietly.

"I would prefer to face a firing squad than betray my country" he repeated with a proud little toss of the head.

"Oh they will not put you in front of a firing squad, Anthony. They will leave it to me." She indicated the table from which she had retrieved the crop. On it lay a revolver.

"That makes the decision easier still" he said, "since if I have to die, I would prefer it to be by your hand than by any other person."

At his words her expression changed, and this time, he saw it.

"May I make a final request?"

"Of course" she whispered. She expected him to ask for something like 'make it quick' or 'as painless as you can, if you have any mercy left'.

"Kiss me. Please. Kiss me, Edith." The simple words belied the deep pleading in his quiet voice, breaking slightly with emotion. It shocked her further still.

"Even though I am a traitor to my country, and, for all you know, I might have sent hundreds of men to their deaths, you still…have feelings for me?"

"Always. You are my weakness, Edith. You always were."

They regarded each other anxiously.

"Before the War when we were courting, I never kissed you. I wish I had. Before you shoot me, please…just one kiss?"

She looked up at the Colonel behind him, and nodded. Anthony tensed, wondering if, despite everything, Edith was about to kill him. But his fears were groundless; the Colonel rose from his seat, and retreated from the room.

Slowly she leaned forward to him. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment. Her eyes trailed down to his lips. He saw it and suddenly he couldn't breathe. She placed her hand lightly on his chest then moved it to the back of his head as she sought his mouth. They kissed gently and incredulously to begin with, but with each passing second the caress become more and more passionate. She wrapped his shoulders in her arms and lent to him. His tongue stole a taste of her lips, and she opened her mouth to him eagerly causing him to lose even more control. He was completely lost when she breathed his name between kisses in a voice he'd never dared hope he might hear from her except in his dreams; it was husky and demanding. She pulled his head to her bared neck and he devoured her hungrily. Stopping herself from thinking about what she was doing, she leaned back and undid the buttons of her blouse, slowly, teasingly. All Anthony could do was watch as she tortured him with her striptease, finding breathing difficult. When she slipped the garment off her shoulders and bared herself to him in just her silken corset, he moaned.

"Edith…oh god!"

"If you tell me just one little detail, I can ask for your hands to be untied and you can hold me properly."

Anthony pulled back, still panting with desire but immediately sobered.

"I can't do it, Edith. You know I can't. I love you, but I cannot do this."

"Really?"

"Really" he replied with finality, knowing he'd just signed his own death warrant.

"Good." She looked at him, at his expression of shock and confusion. Then she leaned over to him again, seeking his ear. He was a dead man, he knew. Why not enjoy whatever affection she might show him while trying to winkle information out of him? But what he heard next was the last thing he could've guessed about this situation.

"Anthony, listen to me very closely, and don't register any emotion on your face. We are still being watched, as I'm sure you know, and we may not have much time" she whispered into his ear as though still trying to seduce him.

"I couldn't bear that you'd gone to war without a word, without proposing to me or leaving any explanation. I had to find a way to come here to try to find you. At one of Aunt Rosamund's dinner parties I met a man called Sir Basil Thomson. He had been working with Special Branch to uncover German spies in Britain. He put me in touch with British Military Intelligence, our Military Intelligence, and they placed me here."

"I know Baz!" Anthony felt his throat constrict but tried not to show too much reaction, as Edith had instructed. She was telling the truth!

"What I do is, well, what I've done for you, then I ask my officers to give me one piece of trivial true information that won't hurt anyone which I can give to the Germans to convince them to believe in this whole charade. Then I tell them what the British brass want the Germans to believe. I promise you, Anthony, I haven't betrayed my country. I am serving in the best way I am able. I'm planting misinformation all over the Western Front. And looking for you."

She drew away from him just enough to look into his eyes, their noses almost touching. With immense relief, she saw admiration and belief in his eyes.

"You do have such beautiful eyes, Anthony. I couldn't bear it if I ever saw hatred or disappointment for me in them."

"Never! You are braver than many of the men I know back in the trenches. Braver than me. I love you, Edith. I love you so very much."

She leaned to him once more, embracing him fiercely, as he kissed her with even more passion and desire than ever. She brought one hand up to his cheek, the other arm laid around his neck and shoulders. Anthony trailed his kisses down her neck to her scantily covered breasts, caressing them tenderly with barely controlled ardour. Edith allowed her hands to rub their way down his chest to the rim of his trousers.

"Tell me one thing, Anthony, one thing, and then I'll get you out of here."

"The first offensive will take place on Wednesday next, beginning at 5am." As soon as he had said it, he felt cold, worrying whether he had been taken in again. But he was immediately calmed by Edith.

"I think we'll tell them Thursday, don't you? Give them a little surprise." She teased the material of his trousers, looking up at him with a dark playfulness.

"Why do some men find crops and whips so…exciting?"

"I don't know" Anthony sighed, raising his head to try to retain his dignity. "I never knew I was one of them until now."

"I've never found uniforms…alluring…until now. You look incredible, Anthony! Utterly irresistible!"

"Rather the worse for wear, I'm afraid."

"Still gorgeous though. God, what would you look like in dress uniform!?" She was obviously aroused herself, which only added more heat to his own fires.

"Perhaps it has to be the right combination of special clothing and special person?" Anthony mused, still fascinated by her silk corset and suspenders. She saw his eyes raking over her thighs and responded by raising her leg slowly over him and seating herself in his lap.

"You are in no fit state to make a jail-break, Anthony. Let's see what we can do about that, shall we?"

"You can't mean…Edith…god, Edith…no!"

Suddenly she was once again the young girl he had courted in Yorkshire, with a sad, hurt expression on her face at the presumed rejection.

"That's not what I meant! I want you, Edith…god, how I want you…but I cannot allow you to risk…"

Edith's features softened. He was such a gentleman, even in this hell of broken honour and mud. She leaned to him again.

"My darling, I have always wanted to give you my maidenhood."

"Edith!"

"And I too would prefer it to be in a nice, warm, soft, clean bed, and within wedlock. No, I was thinking of providing you with relief another way."

It was all too much. She called him her darling; she talked as though marriage was still an option…no, more than that, a probability. And she was snaking her hand down to the buttons of his trousers.

Edith found him straining for her. She freed him, took him in hand, and began to stroke, slowly but firmly. Anthony's head lolled backwards as he finally lost all control of his emotions. Her fingers were so delicate and yet so commanding. This was the stuff of fantasies and it was all happening for Anthony for the first time. His marriage had not been exactly passionate; he'd never been with any other woman. But he'd dreamt of Edith doing exactly what she was doing now, and all sorts of other things, ever since that night when he'd invited her to the concert in York and despite every rational thought that he'd had running through his head that she wouldn't want to go with him, she had not only accepted, she'd seemed breathlessly excited by the prospect. The memory of her heaving breasts had both comforted and tortured him ever since. He somehow managed to open his eyes and look at her through the haze of bliss and love. She whispered "I love you, Anthony" then she slid off his lap.

He had just let a moan of disappointment escape him when he realised what she was going to do. He thought that he had indeed died and gone to heaven when she adjusted her hands around his jewels and took his manhood in her mouth. She whirled and flicked her tongue around him, gently sucking and humming, causing him to become wholly insensible, driving him mad with desire and pleasure until, too soon for him, he could contain himself no more and he exploded with her name on his lips.

He had hardly had a moment to gather himself when Edith was once more whispering into his ear.

"I have a plan to get you out of here, rather than taken to the POW camp, because I fear they will not let you live. I want you to whisper to me as though you are telling me more details. When you've finished I am going to pretend to execute you. Three shots in total: react to them as violently as you can. The pistol is loaded with blanks. Afterwards I will insist you are buried decently and taken to the undertakers in the town, a few miles behind these lines. The undertaker is my contact and will be able to get you back to England."

Anthony nodded, once more in control of himself. He began talking.

"Edith, I want you to know that I did intend to propose to you that day. When Mary…told me all those things, my heart broke. I couldn't bear to stay and ask you about it because…well, I suppose I was scared that they might turn out to be true. I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to tell me your side of the story. I assure you it was only because I doubted myself…too much. I love you, my dearest darling."

Edith had gone to the table to write down the planted information that she had memorised as if taking it from Anthony's dictation. Then she picked up the pistol, and returned to Anthony, saying nothing. She stole a long, sweet kiss from him then took a step backward, raising the gun. Even if this has all been a con and she really is about to kill me, he thought, it was worth it. I will die happy.

At the first shot, Anthony jerked his body, his lips parted as if in pain and surprise at Edith's treachery. He threw himself back against his bonds and grimaced at the second, and at the third slumped forwards, as though dead. He'd acted so well, that Edith was filled with panic that the pistol had somehow been switched. She approached him as if to check he was dead and to close his eyes, fear clutching at her heart.

"Anthony? Hum at me if you're alright?"

Mmmm.

"Oh, thank god for that" she sighed with relief. "You scared me. Now, don't worry, I'm just splashing some red ink on your chest."

The door opened and the Colonel re-entered.

"Was that actually necessary?"

"I couldn't let him have the opportunity to get word back to the English. He knows…knew me too well."

"Well, if you think so. I assume he talked."

"Oh yes" she said sadly, "he talked. Here are the details of next week's attack. Use them wisely. I have paid a heavy price for them."

"Really?"

"I should have married him." She looked at Anthony with an expression the Colonel had never seen on her before.

"I want him buried properly by Grüber, in consecrated ground. He deserves that. And don't worry, I will pay for it."

"As you wish. You have earned any favours you might ask for today."

"May I stay here with him until Grüber arrives? Please?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Your job is done."

The Colonel left and Edith ran her hand through Anthony's blond hair.

"You can't be very comfortable like that. Would it be better to have your hands untied?"

Mmm.

She took a knife from the table behind her and cut through the rope, steadying Anthony's body as she did so, meaning his head slumped onto her chest.

"How's that?"

Mmmmmm.

Edith stifled a smile.

.

When Grüber arrived an hour later, he and his assistant placed Anthony in a coffin and loaded him into a hearse.

"Would you like to accompany us back to discuss arrangements, Fraülein?"

"Yes, we'd better get it over and done with."

They didn't speak again until they were inside Grüber's garage attached to his premises.

"Your gentleman is not of a nervous disposition, I hope? He will not be…how you say…spooked by being carried away in a coffin?"

"I hope not" Edith replied, quickly getting out of the vehicle.

Grüber and his man released Anthony who sat up without delay.

"I feel like Count Dracula" he muttered to no one in particular.

"Anthony! Are you…?" Edith's concerned words were cut up by Anthony catching her in his arms and kissing her fervently.

"I owe you my life, my sweet."

"Me and Herr Grüber."

Anthony turned and shook the older man's hand.

"Yes, thank you Sir. You have taken a great risk for me today."

"Don't worry about it" Grüber drawled "I've taken greater ones for her."

"And you can get him back to England?" Edith asked.

"Yes, you and him both." It was said very definitely.

"But…" Edith began.

"No argument, my lady. I saw the looks that were being passed between the officers in there. Something changed today. Somebody saw something. Doubts have been raised. I will not risk it. You go home together. I will wire London. You will start as soon as I can gather the papers."

"But…" Edith began again, this time being cut off by Anthony.

"No. You will come home with me. You said yourself you came here to find me, and you have. Now we can both go home...and marry."

Edith tried to speak again, but Anthony kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her.